You Drive Me Crazy
by sweetgirl8353
Summary: It's junior year and Adam Banks has everything he could ever want: hockey, the Ducks, good looks, and popularity. That all comes crashing down with a potential career ending injury. It's only from an unlikely source that Adam will find the strength to fly again.
1. Can't Touch This

"Yo, yo, Cake-Eater in the house!"

This is what greets Adam Banks, star player of the newly minted Varsity Ducks, as he enters the house of some football player for the Annual End of Summer Blowout, which was really just an excuse for the entirety of Eden Hall's campus to get wasted the final weekend before school starts. Everyone had moved back into the dorms that morning and now it was Saturday night, perfect time to party and recover the next day before school starting up on Monday.

Cheers follow Russ Tyler's exclamation as the Ducks' forward finds himself the center of attention of a rather rambunctious crowd. The blonde sheepishly ducks his head as he ventures further into the elaborate and tastefully designed mansion that belonged to one of his classmates.

In the living room music is blaring through the speakers. The dulcet tones of MC Hammer bouncing off the walls.

' _My-my-my-my music makes me so hard makes me say oh my Lord. Thank you for blessing me with a mind to rhyme and two hype feet.'_

As Adam saunters through the living room he sees a flash of fellow teammate and friend, Connie Moreau, in the center of the mosh pit on the dance floor, plastered to her boyfriend of the quarter: Dominic Barclay, captain of the water polo team.

Adam continues on his way into the kitchen, twisting and diving past fast moving bodies, where he finds the other female Duck, Julie Gaffney, lounging against the counter, drumming her fingers against the granite in a bored fashion.

A smile splits across her face as soon she spots Adam.

"Hey Banksie," she greets with a teasing grin as Adam rolls his eyes. It seems that nickname is going nowhere anytime soon.

"Cat Lady," he salutes as he overlooks his alcoholic options for the evening. After surveying a wide variety of cheap vodka, wine coolers, and rum, the hockey player grabs a beer from an oversized cooler.

"Can I get you anything?" he calls out to Julie, who shakes her head so quickly her blonde locks end up slapping her cheeks.

"DD," she explains as Adam winces in sympathy. He pops the cap off his bottle effortlessly and takes a generous swig as he settles in against the island in the center of the massive kitchen.

"Welcome to the One Friend Who Owns a Car Club. Parasites who call themselves friends have a way of taking advantage."

Over the summer back in Maine, Julie had inherited her older brother's Saab and had road-tripped it back to Minnesota in time for school. Now Julie had joined the exclusive club of Car Driving Ducks alongside Adam and Guy. Now there was just enough room to shuffle the remaining Ducks around on their various escapades.

Those free-loaders.

Julie laughs soundly, a snort escaping before she slaps her hand over her mouth, cheeks flushing. Adam chuckles in response as he sips his foamy beer.

Once she recovers, Julie lowers her hand and turns towards Adam inquiringly, "What about you? Did you drive?"

Adam nods, thinking dreamily about his cobalt, Jeep Wrangler his dad has gifted him with during the spring of sophomore year.

"Had a hell of a time parking," he laments as Julie nods solemnly in agreement. The street leading up to the suburban estate had been jammed packed with BMWs and Audis making it nearly impossible to find a suitable parking spot. Adam had wiggled in behind a jet black Porsche.

"You're not planning on have too much fun, right?" the goalie inquires as she nods to Adam's nearly empty bottle. Her concern makes Adam smile as he wraps an arm around his friend and hugs her to his side.

"Aww, Gaffney," he coos as she tries to escape his grip, "You care about me."

He can't help but make a funny face at his friend as she elbows him in the side. He _oofs_ and releases the goalie, who dances back to her spot against the counter.

"Watch it, Banks," she warns with her usual steely eyes, "I have a mean punch."

"With three older brothers, I believe it." he mutters to himself as she smirks smugly at him. She opens her mouth but is cut off as Russ and Dwayne Robertson push their way into the kitchen. The two stop short at the sight of Adam and Julie.

The glint in Russ' eyes becomes predatory as he grins toothily.

"Well, well, well," he sing-songs, "If it isn't the Cat and Preppy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

He smacks a loud kiss as the two blondes roll their eyes. It was a familiar story. Ever since Adam's shining knight moment against Portman during the Junior Goodwill Games, the Ducks had been convinced that the forward carried a torch for their starting goalie.

Apparently the concept of friendship between a boy and girl was a foreign idea to the Ducks.

Even when she dated Scooter during their freshman and sophomore year, Adam had been sent many a sympathetic glance or shoulder pat whenever the two goalies took part in some PDA.

Newsflash: He and Julie were friends. Just friends.

"Cut it out, Russ," Dwayne drawls from next to his friend as he tips his cowboy hat to his fellow Ducks in greeting.

"Howdy, y'all."

Dwayne was looking surprisingly sharp with a pressed, button up shirt tucked into his jeans, and gleaming cowboy boots on display.

"Hi, Dwayne." Adam and Julie parrot back as the four settle in, trading stories and anecdotes about their summers.

Adam was halfway through his second bottle, feeling his skin warm with a good buzz as Russ regaled his audience with a hilarious story involving his street hockey team when a voice cuts through the noise of the party.

"Well," a voice drones from behind the group of four, "If it isn't the Ducks."

The four turn and come face to face with Eden Hall's resident soccer superstar: Sierra Doukas.

Adam feels his mouth pull down into a frown at the sight of the diminutive soccer player. She's decked out in distressed denim shorts and a floral patterned crop top, her strawberry blonde hair a mess atop her head, only held up by a bright, pink scrunchie. Her green eyes flash with mischief as she spies Adam's annoyed frown.

The two had…a history of sort. Adam had known of Sierra all throughout their childhood, the side effects of attending the same schools since elementary. They had never been friends, though Adam had some vague memories of playing in the sandbox as children before being rudely and unceremoniously walloped in the head.

Suffice to say, he's not been a fan of hers since.

Sierra is freshly tan, most likely from another summer spent in Greece with relatives, a fact she loves regaling to anyone who will listen. She's at ease in the contained chaos that is this party and Adam almost envies her poise.

He always finds himself on edge with so many other people, and it's only after a beer or two that his body loosens up so that he isn't quite a bump on a log (to quote Charlie).

"If it isn't the Cleats Queen," Russ retorts, because his mouth has always been quicker than his brain. Sierra's lip-glossed lips turn up in a smile as she ventures into the kitchen, red solo cup in hand.

She beelines for the counter where Adam is leaning and feels no qualm in hip checking the hockey player out of her way as she reaches for the Coke. She pours herself a generous amount before finishing off the cup with some rum. She jumps and lands gracefully on the edge of the counter, kicking her legs lightly as she takes a swig and turns to the group of Ducks contemplatively, her eyebrows arched.

"You know," she begins and Adam braces himself for impact, "I don't even understand the hoopla with you Ducks. You're not that impressive."

While her words may be dismissive and the type of thing the Ducks have been hearing for years as the perpetual underdogs, it's easy to see the teasing glint in her eyes rather than scorn.

Sierra's not the type for cruelty, but there is always a biting undertone to her words, no matter the occasion. Most have learned to ignore it and accept the jibbing for what it is, but Adam has always noted it and tucked it into the recesses of his mind.

"Ah, Doukas," Russ declares mockingly, "Come here to cry because no one cares about women's soccer?"

Adam can't help but snort into his bottle as Dwayne and Julie join in on the laughter.

Sierra remains relaxed as she examines her nails, before looking up and proudly stating, "We've won two state championships. Which is two more than you bozos."

"I'm sorry," Julie interjects from her spot, "Did you forgot we have a professional hockey team named _after_ us?"

"And our gold medals from the Junior Goodwill Games." Dwayne chimes in as he digs through a bag of chips.

"And the fact that we beat Varsity in both JV-Varsity Showdowns." Russ finishes with a flourish. Adam choosing to remain the silent type as he waits for Sierra's reaction.

She just rolls her eyes good-naturedly but has no counter offense as she sips her beverage passively, as much a win as they are ever going to get. After stuffing his face with chips, Dwayne turns to the soccer player.

"Hey Sierra, is Rebekah hiding anywhere around here?"

The Rebekah in question was Rebekah Brown, Dwayne's quiet and shy girlfriend since last year. Who knew Dwayne would be one of the few Ducks in a strong, committed relationship. Adam didn't know much about her other that she was a generally good person. The only point against her was that she was friends with Sierra.

The strawberry blonde's face momentarily softens as she regards the Duck's resident Texan.

"Sorry, Cowboy," she apologizes, "I tried getting her here, but you know how she is. She had a date with a good book that she couldn't put down."

Speaking of books, Dwayne, who has always been an open book himself, nearly collapses in on himself with disappointment at the thought of not getting to see his girlfriend. He had dressed up and everything. Russ pats his shoulder consolingly as Sierra looks for the quickest way to exit this conversation.

Public displays of emotion have never been her thing.

' _I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down. I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down.'_

"Ah, that's my cue," Sierra announces with relief as she pushes herself off from the counter.

"As enjoyable as our verbal sparring has been, the dance floor is calling my name. Catch ya later, losers."

She takes a few steps before pivoting back around, eyeing Adam speculatively. He can feel his body tensing in response to the jab he knows is coming his way.

"Nice polo, Banks," she begins before her grin turns sinister, "What did you do? Raid your dad's closet?"

"Oh snap!" Russ hoots from beside him as Julie and Dwayne break out into raucous laughter. Adam just stands there, shaking his head and hoping the floor will open up and swallow him whole.

He doesn't even think he looks that bad. He's outfitted in a navy polo, khaki shorts and a battered pair of flip flops.

Pretty casual, at least for him.

Sierra sends a wink his way, turning on her heel and walking away with a purposeful sway of her hips.

"Damn," Russ enthuses watching her leave, "She may be a piece of work, but you gotta love when she walks away."

Julie was quick to slap him across the back of his head.

"Pigs," she murmurs to herself. During the impending argument, Adam takes the opportunity to sneak out and rejoin the larger party.

More people have crammed themselves into the manor as impossible as it seems. The air's thick with so many bodies surging against one another and Adam feels his cheeks heat up from something other than the alcohol.

He can feel the telltale tingle under his skin that means he soon won't be able to take the party for much longer, unless he wants to get rip roarin' drunk. And believe him, part of him does.

However, he drove here and he's leaving in his jeep. He's capping himself after this beer.

He scopes out the scene, spying Connie once again grinding up against Barclay. Goldberg, Averman, and Ken are involved in a high stakes poker game off in the corner. Portman and Fulton are dominating at beer pong, their cheers even louder than the pounding music. Luis has his flavor of the week wrapped up in his arms as he plays with her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she giggles.

He can't see Charlie, but Adam's sure his best friend is making a fool of himself somewhere on the premises. A mess he'll likely have to clean up himself. Sighing to himself, Adam spots an empty space of wall open in the den and makes his way there.

What can he say? He's a true wallflower. Literally.

Across the way Connie Moreau is letting her hair down and letting loose as she dances erratically with her boyfriend. The two have been hot and heavy all summer. Dominic is ludicrously rich, has muscles on top of muscles and is completely aware of the fact that he's a preppy styling douchebag.

While not traditionally Connie's type, she hasn't minded his short comings because, well, abs.

He has such pretty abs. She just wants to run her tongue over them.

She feels sweat on her body as she throws back her head, her fair falling in thick waves down her back. She twists and turns to the beat of the music, her denim skirt scrunching up as Dominic pulls her into his arms.

She giggles as he buries his head in her neck, teeth nipping the skin as his hands wander down her back and towards her ass.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Dominic breathes hotly in her ear as she squirms out of his grip.

"I wanna dance!" she cries, her head feeling all kinds of dizzy after the last round of shots she had partaken in. They had been pink and she couldn't resist them. Dominic hoists her back to him, a tall, dark and handsome vision right before Connie's eyes.

"C'mon, let's go."

She vehemently shakes her head and once more dances out of his grip.

"I'm not leaving!"

Dominic makes to grab for her, but catches the glowers being sent his way by the Bash Brothers and backs off. He releases Connie, but not before hissing at her.

"Fine, I'll find someone else then."

"Fine!" she retorts back and turns her back on him as he slouches off, in pursuit of greener pastures and looser women. When he's finally gone, Connie finds herself alone on the makeshift dance floor and stumbles away to drop onto once of the couches.

She fans herself and stares out into the crowd and can't help but be immediately drawn to one Guy Germaine.

Her first love. Her ex-boyfriend. The beginning and the end.

They had been off since freshman year and claimed to be friends, but can anyone really be friends with their first love?

Guy was as eclectic as usual, with his vibrantly patterned vest, stringy scarf and curls hidden under a beret. He was near the kitchen talking animatedly with a junior girl. He was all grins and hand gestures as he spoke and Connie sighs as she watches him.

 _He shouldn't be talking to her, he should be talking to me_ she muses silently before wrinkling her nose in confusion.

She and Guy? That ship had sailed ages ago.

She glances at him again and he looks near angelic amid the riff raff of the party. She sighs and pouts, suddenly itching for some alcohol.

"Shots," she babbles to herself as she struggles to stand, "I need shots."

Back on the corner wall, Adam was feeling no less claustrophobic as he leans against the wall, sipping at the last of his beer. His buzz had begun creeping back in and he finds himself absentmindedly nodding along to the beat of the music. He's zoning out when a flash of golden hair catches his eye.

He blinks and pushes himself off the wall, seeing a golden haired goddess in a lilac dress demurely making her way through the crowd.

He doesn't recognize her.

Who is that girl? Why doesn't he know her?

What's her name?

Is she an angel?

The amount of alcohol he has consumed has cut through enough of his insecurities, and he feels no qualms in investigating who that heavenly being could be. He takes a step forward and is immediately intercepted by head cheerleader and president of his fan club: Abby Michaels.

"Adam," she giggles with rosy cheeks, effectively blocking his path to freedom.

He wearily blinks and the haze that the girl in lilac had put him in melts away, leaving him in a cesspool of people as music blared and heat consumed all of them.

"Oh, Abby, hi." He greets lukewarmly, but she doesn't notice at all as she bats her eyes at the hockey player. He looks across the crowd but the girl in lilac is gone.

Disappeared.

As if she had never been there in the first place.

He forces himself to be polite as Abby yammers on about her summer spent in the Hamptons, yachting and sunbathing at the beach. The constant talking only stops when TLC's Waterfalls begins playing and Abby squeals, nearly spilling her drink on the hardwood.

"Oh my God! I love this song! Don't you love this song?"

Adam shrugs and wishes he hadn't finished his beer as a weak grin appears on his face.

"Yeah…it's a good song."

He hates this song.

"We should dance," she announces and grabs his hand, making to pull him to the dancefloor. He plants his feet and uses his height and weight to keep him in place, even as she continues tugging on him.

"I don't really dance," he insipidly explains and hopes that will be enough, but with the way Abby is pouting at him, he doubts it.

"Oh, everyone can dance, silly," she cajoles as Adam shakes his head.

"Trust me, I can't."

Seeing that he will not be moved, the cheerleader drops his hand sulkily.

"Oh boo. You're such a party pooper, Adam."

All the blonde can do is shrug as she hurries off to join the dancing, leaving him in peace. He knows, subjectively, that most guys would kill to be in his shoes. He's the star player in the sport that is revered as religion at his school. He has never had a shortage of beautiful girls vying for his attention. He's moderately good looking if the gushing is anything to go by.

He knows guys like Goldberg and Averman would kill to swap lives.

But the attention he has always received from others has always been… _overwhelming._

He doesn't play hockey because he thinks it will make him a star.

He does it because it's the only thing he can ever imagine doing with his life.

He isn't given any more time to ponder his morose thoughts when someone comes barreling through the crowd right towards him.

"Banksie!" Charlie cries out joyously and very drunk as he stumbles towards his best friend. True to his clumsy nature, his foot gets tripped up in an Oriental rug and sends Charlie hurtling towards the ground.

Adam thanks his quick reflexes as he saves his captain from fact planting. He grunts as he shoulders all of Charlie's weight as he struggles to keep them afloat.

"Such a spazz," he mutters under his breath as Charlie flails around in his grip. Charlie proves completely useless as Adam tries to right them against the wall. He finally succeeds and keeps Charlie on his feet as his best friend throws his arm around Adam's shoulder, bringing him in close. Adam cringes as the strong reeking of booze coming off in waves from Charlie.

"Adam, Adam, Adam," Charlie hums, trying to get his friend's attention by poking him in the cheek. Adam bats him away and he wearily regards his best friend.

"What do you want, Conway?"

Charlie beams as he gestures to the party, "We're Varsity now! We're gonna rule the school!"

"Yeah, we are." Adam supplies, humoring his captain as Charlie continues jabbering enthusiastically.

"This is gonna be the best year ever," Charlie slurs, rocking in place. "You, me, the Ducks. We're gonna…gonna be kings! Gonna have castles and shit."

"Don't forget Connie and Julie," Adam reminds him matter-of-factly.

Charlie looks aghast as he stares as Adam with wide eyes, "I'd never forget Connie and Julie!"

Adam can't stop from chuckling at Charlie's antics as he soothingly pats Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie immediately launches back into conversation.

"Adam…I don't tell you enough, but you…you my best friend."

Adam sighs as he closes his eyes. They have officially reached the portion of the evening when Charlie dissolves into a puddle of emotions.

He starts crying on anyone closest to him, showering them in compliments.

Unfortunately for Adam he is the victim tonight.

"Thanks, Charlie. You're my best friend too."

Charlie goes slack at Adam's words, as if it came completely out of left field that Adam would consider Captain Duck his best friend. As if Charlie wasn't the first person to try to welcome Adam into the fold that fateful day in the Ducks' locker room years ago when he had, for all intents and purposes, still been a Hawk. As if Charlie hadn't given Adam his spot in the final game against Iceland. Someone would have to be blind, deaf and stupid not to see that Charlie was Adam's best friend.

Charlie sniffles and wipes his nose on his the sleeve of his flannel. Tears are pooling in the corners of his eyes as Adam internally laments.

He knows what's coming.

"I…I love you, man!"

Adam groans as Charlie wraps his arms around him, tight and as unforgiving as an octopus. Adam tries stepping away, but Charlie's grip is iron clad as he refuses to let go of the forward.

"Alright, Charlie." Adam says awkwardly as people around them snicker, "This is nice."

Charlie just snuggles in further, "You smell good."

A crashing sound interrupts their… _moment_ as Adam uses his 6'1" frame to see over the heads of the partygoers. Near the sliding doors that lead to the patio a fight is brewing between the Bash Brothers and the entirety of the football team.

Adam grumbles to himself. He can see where this is going.

Sure enough, yelling and brawling ensues and the next thing he knows, someone is crashing through the closed patio door, wood and screen splintering. Charlie is still dead weight in his arms and now people are fighting out by the pool as the crowd cheers it on like barbarians, music blasting all the while.

"That's it," he announces to himself, "Time to go."

As he lugs Charlie out of the house he can hear the laughter of Portman and Fulton as they pummel their way through the football team.

Just another day as a Duck.


	2. Hey Now, You're an All-Star

**Quick Author's Note:**

 **Thank you everyone who is giving this story a chance by reading it, leaving reviews, subscribing to it and making it a favorite. Please review! They really inspire me to keep up the good work.**

 **Quick timeline note: the story takes place in 1998/99. Hopefully there's a 90s feel to it.**

* * *

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-_

Adam's hand collides with his alarm clock as the dorm room goes blissfully silent. Guy grumbles nonsensically from across the room in his twin bed, but ultimately is undisturbed as he turns on his side and goes back to his nasally snoring within seconds.

Adam blinks up at the ceiling, fighting a yawn as he stretches out in his bed. Thank God they were extra-long or his feet would be hanging off the end. It's early, the sky only a shadowy grey on the horizon as he gazes out the window.

He lounges for a few minutes, finding his bearings, before heaving himself out of bed. His feet slap against the wooden floors as he riffles through his wardrobe searching for clothing. He quickly strips off his baggy pajamas and tugs on jeans, a nondescript t-shirt, and a worn Berkley sweatshirt sent to him from his older brother.

He quickly ties the laces of his sneakers before scooping up his skates. He's out of his room in a flash, quietly closing the door behind him, but if Guy's snores are anything to go by, the boy is deep in dreamland.

The air is cool and crisp as he departs his residence hall, but with the promise to be a warm, sunny day. Adam enjoys the quiet and stillness of the picturesque campus as he walks along a leafy path, trees overhanging above him, swaying in the early morning breeze. His skates are hanging loosely off his shoulder and his hands are stuffed in his denim pockets as he ventures to the Barn, the loving nickname for Eden Hall's ice arena.

While not technically open so early in the morning (unless Coach Orion is in the godawful mood for early morning practices), Adam long discovered that jigging the lock a certain way and at a certain angle, can in fact open the door to the rink.

So Adam takes advantage of the empty rink for some early morning skating. Often.

He slides easily through the Barn's entrance and finds the ice waiting for him. He can't help but feel like a king overlooking his kingdom as he stands before the ice in the Barn's hallowed halls. A light layer of fog is wafting off the cool ice, giving the arena an ethereal glow. It's so quiet, Adam could hear a pin drop in the cavernous space. He breathes in deeply, his chest filling with the scent of ice and hockey and memories.

Here, in this space, on the ice, is where Adam Banks belongs.

He was made for the biting cold.

He plops himself down on the bench and wastes no time in kicking off his shoes and lacing up his skates so they're nice and tight. He can see his breath expelling from his mouth as he breathes. Pushing himself up, he glides out onto the smooth ice, the scraping of his skates like a sympathy to his ears.

Adam's not a musician and he's a pretty piss poor painter, but to him, flying across the ice has always been a work of art. He skates idly, twisting and turning freely as he careens across the arena, skating under the scarlet banners of Varsity.

All banners are emblazed with the symbol of the Warriors. All but two.

Two red banners bear the logo of the Ducks. The side effect of their first victory over Varsity.

Eden Hall Ducks.

They had done that. He was a part of that.

Adam can't help the feeling of pride that bubbles up in his chest as he coasts across the ice, increasing his speed, moving and weaving without second thought. Adam's never been the smoothest of people. He thinks too much, says too little, and has a way of going unnoticed behind the more vocal personalities of his teammates.

But on the ice…he's someone else entirely.

He's confident and self-assured, but never cocky. He hasn't been cocky since his far-gone Hawk days. When he's on the ice, it's just like magic. Everything clicks. He sees and understands and acts without second guessing himself. He can anticipate any move.

His father has always told him that skills like that will be what separates him from the crowd.

It will be what makes him great.

However, when he's on the ice like he is right now, he has no thoughts for greatness. He just wants to skate, to play, and to do his best.

Times moves effortlessly while on ice and it isn't until he chances a glance at his wristwatch that he sees that nearly an hour has passed and soon the early birds will be getting breakfast at the dining hall.

He comes to a quick stop on the ice, the skidding of his skates echoing all around as he greedily breathes in air. He bends and places his hands on his knees, wiping his brow and batting his damp hair out of his eyes. Sweat is now pooling across his chest, armpits and down his neck and he's hot as he stands on the stillness of the rink.

He rotates his neck slowly, groaning as it cracks, loosening up his muscles. He stands and skates back to the bench, throwing himself down as he undo his skates and sinks back into his converse sneakers. He stands, the joints of his knees groaning slightly in distress as he books it to the boys' locker room.

He grabs a towel from his locker, strips off his sweaty clothes and pads towards the showers. He is utilitarian in his use of the hot water, washing efficiently and quickly. Soon enough he's back in his street clothes, water dripping from his hair as he gathers up his belongings and books it out of the Barn before Coach Orion can chance upon him. The guy is known for skulking about the rink at the most inopportune times.

The sun has just come up and the sky is a canvas of hues of pink, yellow and purple as the early morning light shines down upon him. The campus is still pretty empty, but a few dedicated joggers are out, Adam nodding to them as they run past him.

His thoughts are far away as he strolls past the soccer field, and it's only a flash of color that breaks him out of his daydreams. He stops and looks out and sees a lone figure firing balls at the empty net. Even from this distance he can see strawberry blonde hair and a brightly colored windbreaker as the figure continues lobbing balls into the net.

He may not be a fan of Sierra Doukas, but the one thing he can say about her is that she is dedicated to her craft.

She lives and breathes soccer the same way he does hockey. He can respect that.

He watches her absentmindedly for a few minutes before turning on his heel and continuing on his way back to Edwards Hall. Once inside, he takes the stairs two at a time and quickly finds himself back in his dorm room. Guy hasn't budged at all in the hour and a half Adam has been gone. He's just an unmoving lump covered by blankets and quilts.

Adam fondly rolls his eyes before dropping his skates and fishing through his wardrobe for a new pair of clothes. He tosses his dirty ones into his laundry basket and changes into khaki shorts and a pale blue button up that his mother told him accentuated his eyes. He rolls up the sleeves to his elbows and reaches for a navy sweater and wraps it around his waist, just in case it turns out to be a cool day. The weather in Minneapolis is always hard to determine and changes at the drop of a hat. He moves into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and fixing his hair along the way.

By the time he has his backpack slung over his shoulder it's nearly 7am and Guy looks no closer to waking up, if anything he's more asleep if the drooling is anything to go by. Adam sighs and wishes he was less of a good guy as he walks over to his teammate, shaking his shoulder.

"Guy, c'mon man, get up."

The blonde just grunts and burrows himself deeper into his blanket burrito.

"Stop it, Connie," he murmurs as he hugs his pillow, "That tickles."

Okay. Adam could have gone his entire life without hearing that.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs out a breath and weighs his options. Suddenly an idea comes to him as he smirks wickedly. He bends down, getting close to Guy's ear and attempting his best Orion impression, yells loudly.

"GERMAINE! Get off your lazy ass and give me twenty laps!"

Guy shoots up, nearly bucking Adam in the head as he sits up panting.

"Sir, yes sir, Coach!" he salutes crazily as he finally realizes he's awake. He blinks wearily and immediately spots Adam who is doubled over in laughter.

"Oh man!" Adam chokes out as he clutches his stomach, "You should have seen your face."

Guy scowls at his roommate's rude wakeup call. "Fuck you, Adam."

Adam is still hooting and hollering as he runs to the door and shuts it just in time to narrowly avoid being nailed in the head by one of Guy's pillows. He's wiping tears from his eyes as he travels towards the dining hall to get some much needed breakfast. The dining hall is a low hum of activity as the early risers of Eden Hall sit and eat, most sitting alone. Adam moves through the line quickly and stocks up on some breakfast staples before joining his fellow early bird Ducks: Julie, Ken and Dwayne.

"Morning, Banks." They greet him casually as he parrots it back and digs into his scrambled eggs. The four chitchat as more and more Ducks trickle in throughout the breakfast period. First comes Connie with her glossy hair, chattering a mile a minute about all the extracurricular activities she plans on signing up for that term. Guy slinks in, flipping Adam the bird as he grouchily begins spearing his fruit salad with his fork, Adam smirking all the while from his spot across the table. Goldberg, Averman and Russ all flock in together, as loud and rowdy as ever as they take up their favorite activity: complaining about the food.

"This is absolutely disgusting," Goldberg bemoans as he sifts through his oatmeal, "Look at it! It's all grey and lumpy! I deserve better than this, I'm a paying customer!"

Ken sighs from his spot, "Goldberg, we're here on scholarship."

Goldberg just blinks uncomprehendingly at the littlest Bash Brother. "So, what does that have to do with anything?"

"You don't pay for anything."

Goldberg is unmoved as he continues staring at his teammate, "You've lost me, Kenny."

Ken rolls his eyes before going back to his book, mumbling under his breath all the while as Julie pats his back sympathetically. Next to make their grand entrance are Portman and Fulton, still proudly sporting their war wounds from their brawl with the football team. Once they join the table the decimal volume goes up several degrees as suddenly everyone is yelling in order to be heard over one another. Luis, smooth as ever, meanders in with a cheerleader on his arm. The speedster throws a wink at his teammates before joining his lady love of the day at her table, surrounded by cheerleaders and pompoms.

Last, and definitely least, is Charlie as he stumbles in like the hot mess he usually is. His hair's a bird's nest and his flannel shirt a wrinkled catastrophe, meaning that he most likely picked it up at random from his floor. How his room could already be a disaster zone less than two days of being in the dorms Adam will never know. Charlie's his best friend, but he's secretly glad not to be rooming with the Ducks' captain. His messiness and general disregard of personal boundaries would drive Adam up the wall and he'd most likely end up suffocating Charlie in his sleep. With his wide, blue eyes he bet he could get away with it. No one ever suspects the quiet ones.

Charlie drops heavily into the free seat next to Adam and only communicates in a series of grunts and groans as he scarfs down his breakfast, eggs and toast bits flying everywhere. Charlie has always been more Neanderthal than man. When he completes his breakfast and has chugged his orange juice like a champ, he blindly holds his hand out to Adam.

The Ducks' star player sighs, knowing exactly what Charlie is asking for. Over the summer his parents had gifted him with every teenager's greatest desire: a cellphone. He was now the proud owner of a blue Nokia 5110, about as technologically advanced as any teenager can hope for in this day and age. And as the only Duck with a cellphone, he was constantly handing it over so others could play games on it.

Adam unearths his cellphone from his pocket and hands it to his captain with a warning, "Don't use up all my battery."

Charlie waves him off as he immediately launches a new game of Snake.

"You worry too much, Banksie."

"And you don't worry at all." Adam counters as he bites into his apple. Charlie just shoots him a grin before going back to his game.

"That's why we're a perfect pair, we balance each other out."

Adam bites back a small grin, no reason to give Charlie the satisfaction, and goes back to his apple. The remaining time for breakfast goes by quickly and all of a sudden a voice comes booming from the intercom system.

" _Will all students please report to the auditorium for the beginning of school assembly. I repeat, all students to the auditorium, please."_

Charlie stretches as he stands, "That's our cue, guys. Let's see if the Board's found a new way to kick us out this year."

His remarks are met by chuckles and muttered threats under breaths as the Ducks meander their way towards the spacious and elegantly designed auditorium. Adam sits himself down in a plush chair in between Charlie and Averman as students mill all about in seats and in the aisle, chattering away to one another. All and all, it takes Dean Buckley nearly five minutes to bring the room to attention. He stands upon the stage in his tweed blazer and quirky bowtie, the Eden Hall faculty and staff seated behind him on the stage.

"Welcome everyone to another fine year at Eden Hall Academy," Dean Buckley begins jovially, his grin stretched wide across his face.

"I hope everyone has enjoyed a relaxing summer and is prepared for a fruitful school year filled with challenging academics, exciting extracurricular activities, and of course, the crème de la crème: athletics."

Roaring cheers erupt throughout the assembly hall, because Eden Hall is, above anything else, all about athletics. It's been priding itself on its excellence to athletics, and hockey in particular, for decades.

"Eden Hall has always been fortunate to boast of the many victories of its teams and athletes. We hope that that tradition of excellence will be passed down to our newest JV Hockey team, led by new coach, Allen Rogers."

Dean Buckley gestures to a tawny haired, middle aged man seated next to Coach Orion. He stands with a bashful wave and quickly seats himself, accepting the slap on the back from Orion. Dean Buckley continues the clapping long after the students have gone silent.

"This year our Lady Ducks Soccer team will be going for their third state championship in a row. I know that with the combined leadership of both Coach Hensley," he nods to an African American woman seated on the other side of Orion, "And that of Captain Sierra Doukas, they will lead us to another resounding win!"

Shouts and hurrahs burst out from the right end of the auditorium where the female soccer team is seated. Sierra Doukas is in the middle of the clutter, as she always is, beaming all the while, thriving off the acclamation of others. The applause carries on for a while before Dean Buckley can reign in the noisy teenage population.

"And last, but definitely not least, I expect nothing but great things from our new Varsity Hockey team, the original Ducks."

Adam sees his team hamming it up as cheers breakout throughout the assembly hall. But even he can't hide his grin as the cheers grow in volume for their team. Only two years ago the school acted as if they were the ugly duckling in a sea of swans. Now they were the scions of the school.

"They will be guided by their coach of the last two years, Varsity's newest coach, Ted Orion!"

The Ducks were immediate in their raucous yelling and ovation for their coach. Most were on their feet and flailing around.

"To win, Coach Orion, sir!" Averman bellows from next to Adam and even from here Coach Orion can be seen good-naturedly rolling his eyes as his team's rowdy antics.

"It starts with a W!" Portman and Fulton crow from their spots and soon the entire auditorium is going nuts, rooting for the Ducks. It's like being on the ice again as they win a game. By now the student body is out of control and it's all Dean Buckley can do to dismiss them in an orderly fashion as the five minute warning bell sounds.

Adam stands, swinging up his backpack, and takes back his cellphone from Charlie before hurrying off to first period.

He settles agreeably into his desk for Advanced World History. It is, surprisingly enough, a Duck-less class. Not even Julie or Ken, Adam's usual comrades in AP classes, are with him, both in AP Biology at the moment. He nods to some of his entering classmates, all eager to say hello to the Ducks forward, the vice of being a member of the Varsity hockey team. He even manages not to cringe when Eloise Harrington, one of Abby Michael's tagalongs waves at him from across the room. She bursts out into loud giggles when he responds in kind and he is quick to busy himself with grabbing his school supplies out of his backpack, so as to not make eye contact with the cheerleader.

Adam has just gotten out his textbook, notebook and pencils, and has complied them neatly atop his desk when the door bursts open and the spectacle of Sierra Doukas and Natalie Daniels enters the room, everyone's eyes on the pair.

"Giddy up, horsie!" The strawberry blonde commands from Natalie's back as she is piggybacked into the room. Natalie Daniels, a tall, willowy girl with kind, dark eyes from Denver, Colorado, is Sierra's second in command both on and off the soccer field.

The pair stagger down the aisle, Sierra's backpack knocking into Adam's shoulder as they pass. He gives an annoyed grunt that goes unnoticed by the soccer players as Natalie unceremoniously drops Sierra on the desk in front of Adam before collapsing into the one across from her. Sierra lands unforgivingly and is quick to shoot a glare her friend's way as Natalie struggles for breath.

"I can't," she pants out erratically, "C-can't believe…you…made me…piggyback you…u-up all those…those stairs!"

Sierra gives a sinister smirk that adds to Adam's belief that she might be evil.

"No pain no game, babe," she retorts easily as she situates herself at her desk, "You need to lose some weight, you're getting fat." she remarks as she darts a kick at Natalie's shins which makes the brunette girl jump.

Adam may not know much about women, but he's pretty sure you should never call them fat to their face.

"I know someone who's gained weight." Natalie mutters under her breath as Sierra's green eyes narrow and she sticks her nose up.

"All muscle." She insists haughtily as Natalie nods, unconvinced. Adam, and the rest of the class, watches the exchange passively. It's clearly Sierra and Natalie's world, the rest of them just live in it.

After several long seconds of intense staring, the two girls are all laughter and smiles as they settle in. It's only as Sierra if shifting in her seat that she notices Adam sitting behind her. Adam's stomach lurches unpleasantly at the glint in her eyes.

"Banks," she greets in that calculating tone of hers. He only nods gruffly in return, not wanting to engage with her wily nature. He never knows what to expect from the strawberry blonde.

"Doukas," he addresses her through gritted teeth. A smug look crosses her face. She knows how frustrated she makes him, how she gets under his skin like a bad itch. Of course she'd find joy in being the cause of other's insanity.

Natalie, the sane one of the three, is the one to break the stalemate.

"Hi, Adam," she acknowledges in a friendly manner. His lips quirk up into a small smile.

"Hi, Natalie. Have a good summer?" At least talking to Natalie never sets him on edge.

Natalie's eyes light up and she is quick to launch into her summer escapades in Colorado and all the rock climbing she did. Adam listens along politely, eyes darting to Sierra ever so often. The soccer captain was lazily sprawled in her chair, clearly zoning out the conversation at hand. It's subtle at first, her fidgeting, but soon the soccer player is clearly antsy and reaches for her backpack.

Out she pulls is a soccer ball. Adam doesn't even know why he's surprised at the sight. Of course she would carry a soccer ball with her everywhere she goes. She arches her leg and places the ball on her foot, balancing it precariously. Natalie doesn't even bat an eye at the action, so Adam guesses it occurs often. Adam tries not to watch the ball as Natalie continues speaking earnestly about her summer, asking him questions in return.

He also ignores Sierra's snort when he says he had spent the majority of his summer doing what he always does, playing hockey. It's not as if she has a leg to stand on. She carries a soccer ball in her backpack.

Their little powwow is thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. McKinley, their history teacher. She's a seasoned pro at dealing with the numerous athletes Eden Hall has spawned and has no qualms scooping up Sierra's soccer ball as she walks to her desk.

"You know my policy on balls, Ms. Doukas," she intones dryly as she holds the soccer ball securely. Sierra only coyly bats her eyes at the woman.

"I do not, Mrs. McKinley. Please, do tell." She cheekily smirks as the class bursts out into muted chuckles and snorts. Adam only raises an eyebrow at her brazenness. He'd never dare attempt something like that with a teacher. He bites his cheek to stop from smiling at the soccer player's boldness.

Mrs. McKinley only rolls her eyes with a resigned sigh as she sets the ball on her desk.

"You may have this back at the end of the hour. Now, my intrepid historians. Who's ready to discover the world?"

* * *

The morning flies by with most classes being filled with syllabi and the droning of teachers about their expectations and the high academic standard they are all being held to as Eden Hall Academy students. Homework is given freely, much to everyone's dismay.

Adam finds himself in AP Chemistry, his last class before lunch. His stomach grumbles at the thought of food and he pats it consolingly. He is seated at a lab table situated to fit two and the seat to his right is still open as more and more classmates file into the room. He really hopes no cheerleaders are in this class.

He'll never survive the giggling of the likes of Abby and Eloise all semester. His head is buried in his notebook as he hears someone clearing their throat from beside him.

"Is this seat taken?" A light, almost musical voice inquires. Adam glances up and loses his breath as he stares at the girl standing before him.

It's the Girl in Lilac from the party.

She's real. She's really standing before him.

She has honey blonde hair framing her face with gentle waves and vivid blue eyes peering at him affably. Adam's heart is racing, and are his palms sweaty? Why are they sweaty? As he panicky ponders this he realizes she is still waiting for the answer to her question.

The seat next to him. Right.

"Y-Yeah!" he internally curses as his voice breaks at his proclamation. He coughs rapidly before speaking again, "I mean, k-knock yourself out."

 _Knock yourself out? Smooth, Banks. Real smooth._

The girl is unaware to his internal smack down as she smiles in thanks and sinks onto the stool.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." She lowers her backpack and starts pulling her supplies out. Adam can't help but watch her as she completes her task. She catches his eye as she turns to him.

"We didn't introduce ourselves, I'm Kennedy Parrish."

She holds out her pale hand, it's all long, delicate fingers and smooth skin. Adam stares unblinkingly at it for far too long before his brain finally clicked into place. He is quick to respond so he doesn't look like a complete dolt.

"Hi, my banks is Adam Name."

Oh God, he is such an idiot. His feels his face flush in shame and he really hopes that the floor will open up and swallow him whole. There's no way he can face her now. Shaking his head, he forces his mouth to work correctly as he tries again.

"I mean…hi, my name is Adam Banks."

He reaches for her hand and silently marvels at it as they shake. Is it just him or did a jolt of electricity run up his arm? After being around Connie and Julie for so long, he never realized that girls' hands could be so soft.

Kennedy only giggles sweetly as they release their hands, "It's nice to meet you, Adam Banks."

Adam only nods like a bobble head as he uneasily runs a hand through his hair, messing up its neat look. He turns ahead but his eyes have a mind of their own and they keep darting back to the pretty girl sitting next to him.

If he were Portman or Luis, he would have already busted out four or five pickup lines to varying degrees of success. Charlie is more subtle in his approach, usually broaching a safe topic such as music or movies to snare his prey.

Adam, however, is not Portman, Luis or Charlie, and finds himself lost at sea as he struggles to say something, anything.

"So," he begins before fully formulating his thought. Now she's looking at him and there's nowhere to go but forward.

"Are…are you new?" Great question, Banks. Killing it. "It's just…I've never seen you before."

Eden Hall, for all its pomp and grandeur, has a surprisingly small population. Kennedy nods as she drums her pencil absentmindedly on the lab table.

"I just moved here from Rhode Island. My dad's in the Air Force as was transferred here. What about you? Are you a transplant at all?"

Adam is quick to shake his head, "No, born and bred Edinian. Cake-Eater through and through."

He closes his eyes in mortification. He just called himself a Cake-Eater to the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

Just kill him now. He can see his tombstone already.

 _RIP_

 _Adam Jeffrey Banks_

 _Good hockey player, terrible at talking to girls_

Yep, seems about right. If Kennedy is perplexed by her seatmate's half crazed words she doesn't show it. She just furrows her brows in confusion as she looks at Adam.

"Cake-Eater? What's a Cake-Eater?"

Adam sighs, knowing his face is as red as a tomato, as he shrugs disarmingly.

"Trust me, you're better off not knowing."

Kennedy snickers, but there's no malice in her laugh and Adam finds himself at ease. She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by the arrival of the teacher. The two exchange glances before facing forward.

The next 55 minutes are the longest 55 minutes of his life. He is completely aware of Kennedy next to him, the way she moves, breathes and shifts in her seat. He has no idea what their teacher has been talking about and is taken completely by surprise when the bell rings, dismissing them from the room.

He all but throws all of his supplies into his backpack and when he looks up Kennedy is standing there, seemingly waiting for him.

She grins at him, "Off to lunch. You?"

Adam nearly swallows his tongue as he nods and her smile grows in return as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Great! Mind if we walk together? I'm still not sure of my way around."

So that's how he escorts Kennedy to the dining hall. The two exchanging small talk the whole time, and Adam succeeds in not making a complete fool of himself in front of her. When they enter through the mahogany doors and find themselves at an impasse, standing there looking at one another.

Adam really doesn't want to leave her. She's been the one good thing he's experienced today. By the way she's gazing warmly at him, he hasn't completely scared her off.

 _Alright, Banks. Be brave. You've taken on goons from the Hawks, Iceland and Varsity. You can string a sentence along for a beautiful girl._

"Hey," he begins haltingly, "Do you…do you, uh, want to sit together?"

Kennedy's eyes light up as she adjusts her backpack hanging off her shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be – "

"BANKSIE! OVER HERE!"

Adam curses under his breath as the Ducks' yell echo throughout all of the dining hall. Suddenly the entire cafeteria is staring at him and Kennedy. He sends a quick glower to his teammates before waving them off. He runs his hand sheepishly over the back of his neck as he turns back to Kennedy, who seems more amused than anything else.

"Sorry about that," he apologizes profusely but Kennedy shakes her.

"No, it's okay. It looks like you're booked up this lunch. Maybe we can sit together another day?"

Adam weakly nods his head.

"Alright. Well, thank you for escorting me, Adam."

She graces him with one final grin that completely turns him to mush as he watches her walk away, disappearing into the crowd. He sighs as he turns and begins walking towards the table housing the Ducks.

Sometimes, he really hates his friends.


	3. Under Skinned Knees and the Skid Marks

"Man, only one day in and I already have five hours' worth of homework tonight alone." Russ wails as he straps himself into his shoulder pads. All the Ducks are collected in the Varsity locker room preparing for their first official practice as Varsity.

"You think that's bad?" Luis complains from across the room as he's shimmying into his padded hockey pants. "I already got detention for tomorrow afternoon."

Julie rolls her eyes as she adjusts her elbow pads. "That's what you get for flirting with the new librarian."

"How was I supposed to know she's married?" Luis retorts with a coy grin towards their goalie.

"Going for the hot librarian, that's my boy!" Portman hoots from next to the speedster and nearly sends him flying as he heartily slaps Luis on the back. Connie and Julie share equal looks of disgust but alas, by this time they are used to the juvenile antics of their male teammates.

"Well," Dwayne chimes in from his locker, "That ain't got nothin' on me. Mrs. Donnelly, more like a she-bear in satin, she has it out for me. I come into class to find everyone's already read the book…er, 1986 or something."

"It's _1984,_ Dwayne. And besides, it was assigned summer reading." Ken patiently explains from his spot.

Dwayne's big, doe eyes glance around the room as he asks, "Did y'all know that?"

The team shares a series of uneasy looks before nodding to the Texan. Dwayne just sighs loudly as he slaps his knees.

"Ah, dang! Y'all are as worthless as a sidesaddle on a sow."

Adam bit back a smile from his position on the bench as he carefully wraps his right wrist. It hasn't been 100% since the Junior Goodwill Games, and try as he might to get it back to its former strength, he's just had to learn to protect it as best as he's able.

Once that's complete, he, and the rest of the team, are ready to take to the ice, grabbing sticks, gloves and helmets on their way out the swinging door. The team is as boisterous as ever as they take the ice and begin their customarily warm up laps around the rink. Luis wastes no time in leaping to the head of the pack as the rest trickle behind in waves, Russ and Goldberg, as usual, bringing up the rear of their motley crew.

"Hey," Averman chirps from the middle of the herd, "How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?"

The Ducks sigh in unison with many eye rolls and muttered threats. It is far too early in the season to be saddled with Averman's _special_ brand of humor.

"Spare us, Averman. I beg you," Connie pleads from next to Dwayne, who is watching the redhead with interested eyes. He's the only one Averman can count on for a punchline.

"I want to hear the joke." The Texan insists as Averman pumps his fist in victory and opens his big mouth.

"Ten-tickles."

Everyone lets out a collective groan and Fulton feels no shame in not so innocently shoving his bespectacled teammate into the boards as the flock continues on.

"Everyone's a critic," Averman mutinously sputters as he wobbly attempts to regain his balance. He's just catching up to the rest of the team and ready to grace them with another masterpiece of a joke when a whistle sounds, followed by the ominous sound of Coach Orion's skates scraping across the ice, echoing across the wide expanse of the Barn.

It's not that the Ducks don't admire Orion. He's taught them a lot about hockey and life in their two years at Eden Hall and they are pleased as punch he moved up to Varsity with them following Wilson's retirement last spring.

Doesn't mean the man still (on occasion) doesn't scare the hell out of all them.

An occasion such as their very first Varsity practice after a very long summer where for most, hockey was not quite the priority it could have been.

"Ducks," he greets with his characteristic curtness, though fondness can be seen lurking in his pale blue eyes.

"Take a knee," he instructs and the Ducks are quick to follow.

"First off," Orion began, "Welcome back. Second, I want to congratulate you."

"On how ridiculously good looking we are?" Russ quips with a shit eating grin as Coach's steely eyes pin him down. He shrinks under the weight of Orion's displeasure as he shifts uneasily.

"Uh…sorry, sir."

Orion finally backs off the defenseman and faces the team once again.

"I was going to say that I know how long and difficult a road it was for you to get here. Over the last two years, you've proven time and again how deserving you are of being here, playing hockey at this school, of following in the Eden Hall tradition. You've had your challenges, but you've overcome them all, even if your methods at times are… _unorthodox_."

Adam snorts as he pushes his hair out of his eyes. That's one way of stating it.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen good, I am proud beyond words to be your coach."

Orion finds a way to look every player in the eye as silence descends across the ice. Charlie is all but beaming from his spot as Orion nods at the captain. The moment holds before Orion clears his throat and is back to his usual hard-ass self, "So, congratulations on your hard won position as Eden Hall's newest varsity hockey team."

Hoots and grunts of approval rise up from the team as Orion rolls his eyes at the unruly display.

"Varsity, baby!" Portman bellows as he punches Fulton's shoulder.

"Alright," Orion cuts in and the noise ebbs away as he becomes the center of the hockey rink again, "That's enough self-congratulatory behavior for the season. You're Varsity now, you're playing an entirely different game than on JV. It's faster, more demanding and less forgiving. You'll be going up against the best of the best in the state. And trust me when I say this, they'll see you coming from a mile away. They're going to know all your moves before you even step on the ice."

Encouraging as always. The man should start writing greeting cards. Orion, at his core, was a realist and he never hesitated in telling it like how it is. Anyone who didn't like that? They were free to skate laps. A testament Charlie could vouch for back in his…more rebellious days.

"So this season it's all about – "

"Two way hockey," The team cries out as Orion huffs out an almost amused breath.

"Wrong. It stars with a F."

"Falafels?" Goldberg wisecracks and suddenly they're thirteen year olds preparing for the Junior Goodwill Games listening to Miss McKay go on about the Olympics. Hopefully by now Fulton has learned that the US was not involved in the ancient games.

Orion doesn't even try to hide his contempt as the team breaks out into giggles and titters.

"Fundamentals." He intones as everyone quiets down, "It's back to basics for us. Skating, stick-handling, passing, shooting, you name it. We're going to perfect it. By the time we face the Strafford Stingrays in a few weeks' time, you will be performing all those skills as an art form. We will be a well-oiled machine, no room for sloppiness or laziness. Eden Hall has won the State Championships for the last twelve consecutive years, I'll be damned if we're the reason for their first lost. You hear me?"

Adam doesn't even need to glance around to know that everyone is bobbing their head yes.

"Excellent. Now time to see who's been practicing in the off season." A glance in Adam's direction is enough for the team to know who Orion really has faith in as groans rise up from the kneeling players.

Orion smirks, and for a moment it almost looks sadistic as he brings his whistle up to his lips.

"Time to get to work. Sprints!"

The whistle's shrill call bounces off the wooden beams of the Barn as everyone jumps up and gets into positon.

What follows is…torture, pure and simple.

Orion wastes no time in putting the team through their paces. It doesn't take long for the sensation of burning muscles to set in. Adam, unlike many of his teammates, revels in the feeling as he skates hard through ever drill and exercise Orion has dreamed up.

The ice is where he feels alive most, so the burn and tightness of a hard workout doesn't even phase the star player as he continues digging, reaching and going one step further.

Still, after what seems like hours, Adam is as relieved as everyone else when Orion calls an end to the practice and orders everyone to take a knee for the final time at the center of the ice, everyone converging over the Mighty Ducks logo, vibrant in red, black and yellow.

"Not bad, Ducks. Not bad at all." Orion compliments from his perch. It's high praise from the usually tight lipped, former NHL player.

"I liked what I saw out there today," he continues sternly, "But that doesn't mean there isn't room for improvement. I expect 100% from each of you every time you're on this ice as well as your off ice workouts and conditioning. The schedule for which I will be posting tomorrow, so you have that to look forward to."

At this point the Ducks were too exhausted to even groan out in misery at the mention of off ice conditioning.

"But if you keep up this same level of discipline and dedication as you did today, then I see a very successful season ahead of us. Lastly,"

The team held its breath, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. One could never tell with a coach as strict and demanding as Orion. The man smirked at his team's hesitant expressions before speaking.

"This season we will work hard. However, that doesn't mean we can't also, from time to time, play hard."

The Ducks shared questioning glances as seemingly from out of nowhere Dwayne's trusty lasso appeared from behind Orion's back. What, had he been hiding that in his fleece?

"Cowboy," he addressed Dwayne as he tossed him the lasso, "You know what to do."

Dwayne grins from ear to ear, "You don't need to tell me twice, Coach."

It doesn't take long for the Ducks to scatter in every which direction across the ice.

"Every man for himself!" Goldberg shrieks as he shoves Kenny into the boards in his haste to skate away from the Texan.

"Ladies too!" Julie chimes in as she uses Connie as a buffer between her and the cowboy.

The sight the new JV team is greeted to when they take the ice twenty minutes later is that of a tied up Averman, alone and squirming helplessly on the ice.

* * *

"I am so exhausted!" Connie cries as she collapses on her bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe and fresh out of the shower, her hair smelling faintly of strawberries as she lounges across her pillows.

"Tell me about it," Julie replies from her perch at her desk. She was sitting crisscross on the uncomfortable chair, textbook open in her lap and her trusty florescent highlighter in hand.

Their dorm room was typical of any teenage girl. Nearly every free inch of space on their walls was filled to the brim with magazine cutouts of their favorite celebrity heartthrobs: Leo, JTT, Jason Priestley, David Charvet and many more abs and pecs. Intermixed between the Hollywood hotties were pictures of various family members and friends of the two female Ducks. On Connie's desk was a framed picture of the team from her Sweet 16th birthday which had involved an epic laser tag battle and a massive food fight involving her mother's cake. The picture had been taken, luckily, pre-food fight so no one was a mess of frosting.

Connie's favorite picture (though she'd never admit it aloud, even under extreme duress) was one of her and Guy. It had been taken at the beach in Los Angeles after Team USA's game against Trinidad. Back when Coach Bombay had not been in his Captain Blood era. It had been the first time Connie had ever seen an ocean, let alone dipped her toes into its deep, blue water, her feet buried in the wet sand.

The sun had been setting beneath the waves, the sky a vibrant canvas of violet and pink. She and Guy were nestled together in the sand, a blanket thrown over the two as they watched the sunset. Guy's arm was slung around her shoulders, pulling her into his side where her head was nestled in his shoulder. Just as the photo had been taken he had leaned in, placing a delicate kiss to her temple. Connie was smiling so broadly, her dimples on full display.

That had been a good day.

She and Guy had had many good days. And their fair share of some pretty bad ones.

Like their final breakup right before their freshman year. That had been a very bad day.

Connie sighs as reclines on her twin bed, her body aching after a long practice and her brain dead after a taxing first day of school. Homework would just have to wait.

The brunette glances at her roommate, and upon seeing how transfixed the goalie is by her textbook, sighs louder, adding a mournful end note to really sell her pitch.

Julie twitches but resolutely keeps her head buried in her book. Connie watches her and realizing that Julie will be stubborn about the whole affair busts out the big guns.

This time her sigh is louder, longer and absolutely cannot be ignored, no matter how stone face Julie is about such matters.

Connie holds her breath as Julie tenses and, yes, after a long moment lowers the textbook, raising her blonde head to peer at Connie suspiciously.

"Something on your mind, Cons?"

Connie has to bite back her grin as she sits up, tucking her legs under her as she turns her whole body towards Julie.

"I'm glad you asked."

Seeing that no more homework will be accomplished as Connie laments, Julie gives one final glance at her textbook before closing it and tossing it aside as she gives Connie her full attention. The quicker this is over with the quicker she can get back to AP Bio.

Connie takes a moment to collect her thoughts which have been a jumbled mess these last few days with the onset of the new school year.

"I think…I'm going to breakup with Dominic."

She waits with baited breath for Julie's reaction, but is severely disappointed when all Julie does is blink.

"Oh." Julie says as Connie stares at her.

"Oh? What 'oh?'"

Julie shrugs as she fiddles with her highlighter. "I mean, it's not exactly shocking. You guys have nothing in common."

"That's not true," Connie protests for the sake of it, "We both like…things."

Julie is nonplussed as she retorts, "Riveting."

"I mean it!" Connie argues, "And he's not a bad guy, he's just so…"

"Stuck up? Bland? Unoriginal? Cave man?"

Connie's eyes narrow as she glares at her friend, "I was going to say… _physical_."

Julie snorts as she looks at Connie, "You're just saying that because you like his abs."

That was 100% true.

"He has such pretty abs," Connie pouts in remembrance of those glorious muscles as Julie rolls her eyes.

"Face it, he's just a meathead with a pretty face. You can admit it aloud, I won't think less of you."

Connie exhales deeply, "Fine, he's a meathead with a pretty face. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Julie deadpans as she leans back in her chair. "So, who's next?"

Connie furrows her brow in confusion, "Next? Next for what?"

"Don't play dumb. Who's the next athlete you plan on devouring?"

"I don't devour any athletes!"

"Oh please, you're breaking up with the captain of the water polo team. Before him it was a football player, then a soccer player, as well as the polo player and finally…ah, well…"

Julie trails off awkwardly as she realizes whose name she's about to say. Connie realizes it as well.

"Guy," she supplies as Julie shrugs apologetically.

"You have to admit, you have a type."

Connie chips away at her nail polish as she contemplates Julie's words. The thing about Julie is she's almost always right.

It's more infuriating than anything else.

Connie chews on her lip as she can't help but think of Guy. If she's honest with herself she's been thinking about Guy a lot lately. Everything had been so much simpler when they had been a couple. The world had just made sense because they had been Connie-and-Guy (a single word, a single thought), instead of now they were just Connie _and_ Guy.

Guy had just understood her, knew her better than she knew herself sometimes. There had been no second guessing, no games, no bullshit, just honesty and love. But that had had its flips side as well. Connie at 14 hadn't been Connie at 11 when Guy had first kissed her after their monumental win against the Hawks.

The problem with having a childhood sweetheart was the fact that she never felt like she could outgrow her former self in Guy's eyes. Her teenage years were meant for growth, exploration and experimentation and how could she do that when she was attached at the hip to Guy? How could she figure out who she was meant to be if Guy only ever saw how she used to be?

So, she had bit the bullet and nipped things in the bud before they could really grow to hate one another. It had seemed like the right thing at the time as both she and Guy had dated their fair share of people since.

But…she missed him.

Did he miss her?

Connie blows out a frustrated breath as her dark eyes dart to Julie who, in the silence of Connie's probing thoughts, had gone back to her Biology homework.

"Hey, Jules?"

Julie grunts in acknowledgement but keeps her steely eyes on her textbook.

It was now or never.

"What would you say if the next athlete I was interested in…was a Duck?"

The effect is immediate. Julie freezes before snapping her head up, her wide, blue eyes staring at Connie in abject horror.

"No, no, no, Connie. We talked about this. You vowed you'd never date a Duck again after the disaster that was you and Luis last year."

Julie shivers just remembering those two gruesome weeks in January when Connie and Luis had been…whatever the hell they had been.

"It wasn't that bad!" Connie defends as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Julie stares at her, unconvinced. "It nearly tore the team apart."

Connie huffs, "That's an exaggeration."

"If I'm lying, I'm dying." Julie retorts, "If it hadn't been for Orion intervening the team would have splintered apart. Connie, I love you, but please, don't date a Duck. It won't end well for anyone involved."

Connie frowns sullenly as she leans against the wall, her head falling back with a thud. Julie watches her for a moment, trying to see if her warning had sunk in. When the silence continued she raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Just for the sake of knowing, which Duck are you even interested in? Charlie?"

Connie scoffs and wrinkles her nose in disgust at the thought of her and Charlie.

"I love Charlie, but like a brother."

"Who then? Adam?"

"Adam's cute, but he's way too much of a Cake-Eater for me."

Julie rolls her eyes in defense of her best guy friend on the team. Yeah, Adam wouldn't win a congeniality award any time soon, but Connie could do far worse than Adam when it came to their assortment of teammates.

"Well who then? Don't make me go through the whole team."

Connie bites her lip before locking eyes with her best friend.

"Guy, alright? It's Guy."

Julie's hard gaze immediately softens into sympathy as she gazes at her friend.

"Oh, Connie."

Connie blinks back tears at the gentle tone of the goalie. For Julie to be so tender with her clearly shows her how much of a mistake it was to ever think such thoughts.

"Connie – "

"I'm tired," she snaps as she throws herself down on her bed, "I'm going to hit the hay."

She quickly buries herself underneath her blankets, avoiding Julie's gaze all the while. She curls up in a tight ball and doesn't even relax when Julie sighs and turns back to her homework.

The only sound in the room is the squeaking of her highlighter as it drags across the pages.

* * *

"Alright, Dwayne. You got this. Eye of the tiger." Dwayne chants to himself, a constant mantra in his head, as he walks down the halls of Montgomery Hall towards his beloved's dorm room.

Dwayne was a man on a mission and, more importantly, a man hopelessly in love.

He comes to a dead halt in front of door 216 and takes a moment to check his appearance. His button up is ironed and pressed neatly (just like how his mama taught him) and tucked snugly into his jeans. He takes a minute to adjust his bolo necktie to make sure it's even. It's sporting the star of the Texas Rangers.

Nestled daintily in his arms is an overflowing bouquet of crimson tulips. They are Rebekah's favorites and he'd buy her a thousand of them if he had the money. For now, twenty will have to do.

After her nervously runs his sweaty hands through his hair as he works up the nerve to knock on the door.

"Alright, Dwayne," he whispers to himself, "You are the man. You are the man."

With that thought racing through his head, he raises his fist to knock but it beat to it as the door swings open to reveal the apathetic glower of Rebekah's roommate, Claire Carmichael.

"I thought I heard voices," she muses to herself as she looks Dwayne up and down. Now, Dwayne's taken on his fair share of rattle snakes and mad bulls, but he can't help but quiver in his boots as her frown grows. Finally she takes her Medusa gaze off of him and turns her head into the dorm room.

"Brown, your rodeo clown in here to see you."

Claire disappears into the room and a moment later Dwayne loses his breath for an entirely different reason as Rebekah appears.

She's an absolute vision. The most beautiful thing Dwayne has ever seen.

Her cheeks flush in surprise at the sight of her boyfriend and Dwayne is hypnotized by how fast her blush stains across her face.

"Dwayne," she greets in her signature quiet voice, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I wanted to surprise you." He responds as she blushes further and begins fidgeting with the buttons of her cardigan. Rebekah is a short, pale little thing with long, auburn hair, and a pleasingly round face. Her deep, brown eyes are bracketed by large, square glasses.

She's still the most stunning sight at Eden Hall, at least to him.

Dwayne often speaks without thinking, and Rebekah never says anything without thinking it over at least twice.

That makes them the perfect match in Dwayne's eyes. She reigns him in and he pushes her comfort zone from time to time.

As flustered as she is by Dwayne's appearance, Rebekah can't help but smile as she sees how cleaned up he is.

"Well you did, s-surprise me, I mean." She stutters as Dwayne grins, "In a good way though!"

"Happy to hear it," he replies with a broad grin, showing off all his teeth. The two stand in the doorway for a few long moments, just content to gaze at one another. Finally though the spell around them breaks as Rebekah notices the flowers in his arms.

"A-are those for me?" she asks softly as Dwayne nods dumbly and thrusts them into her hands.

"Indeed, they are! I remember you saying somethin' about them being your favorite and all."

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as Rebekah stares between him and the flowers before hesitantly bringing them up to her nose to inhale their pleasant scent.

"Yes, they are my favorite. Thank you, I love you. _Them_. I meant them, I love the flowers."

Now Rebekah's face is as red as a tomato as she stares in horror at her boyfriend. Dwayne's eyes have gone wide as a warm feeling erupts in his chest and he kicks at nonexistent dirt on the floor.

"Well, golly," he exclaims, "I'm glad you love them. I love them too, the flowers, I mean."

"Yeah?" Rebekah asks hopefully as Dwayne nods. Her face breaks out into a big grin as she steps closer to the Texan, rises up onto her tip toes and places a delicate kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Dwayne's mouth goes dry as she pulls away and he stares down at his petite girlfriend.

"You're as pretty as twelve acres of pregnant red hogs." he says without thinking as Rebekah stares at him in confusion.

"What?"

Now Dwayne can't help but flush at his blunder. He runs a hand through his hair before quietly admitting,

"I just mean…you're very pretty."

Rebekah's eyes light up as she giggles lightly. Dwayne joins in and their laughter sounds like music as it echoes down the empty hallway. Eventually it drifts off as Rebekah glances down at the flowers.

"How about I put these in my room and then you can take me out for some ice cream." she boldly suggests (bold for her anyway).

"Sound good?"

Dwayne bobs his head yes at her proposal.

"I'd love nothin' more."

Rebekah grins and disappears into her dorm room, reappearing a moment later with her purse slung over her shoulder. She links her arm through Dwayne's and leans easily into his side.

"Lead the way, cowboy."

Dwayne chuckles as they make their way down the hallway.

"With pleasure, ma'am. With pleasure."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi guys, I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. If you are enjoying it, please, please, please review. It's really hard to gauge peoples' interest if no one reviews. Reviews sustain me as an author, so I would be most appreciative if you guys told me what's working so far (and even things that are not). That being said, thank you to PinkTribeChick, who reviewed the very first chapter. Happy reading!**


	4. Get Your Game On, Go Play

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this newest chapter out. I've recently been rewatching Grey's Anatomy on Netflix and got sucked into the vortex of binge watching. I hope moving forward to post a new chapter weekly, maybe more often if I am churning out more chapters. Keeping my fingers crossed. I just wanted to thank really-need-a-hobby and the guest who reviewed the last chapter. It means a lot to get your kind words! I hope everyone will continue reviewing! Thanks!**

* * *

"Move your feet, ladies! My Mawmaw, God rest her soul, could run faster than you sorry lot!"

Coach Hensley was a one woman machine as she ran her team through their paces. The Lady Ducks soccer team was the overlooked champion of Eden Hall. They were strong and consistent winners but always overshadowed by the Varsity hockey team and the school's rabid love of hockey and its players.

In the last two hours they had run multiple drills on passing, running, dribbling and crossing. Coach Hensley wasn't one to brag, but her team was looking like a well-oiled machine as they practiced. She could easily see another state championship title in their future. As well as another win in their 'friendly' Spring Exhibition Game against the Blake Bears, a feat just as coveted as a state champ win.

At the center of their success would be their captain, Sierra Doukas. She, more than anything else, was their secret weapon, if only because she was the dominant force on the team, always pushing her teammates past their breaking points. Doukas was a pit-bull of a player, endlessly tenacious and doggedly stubborn about always being the best. Anytime the ball was in her grip, it was getting into the net, hell or high water. She pushed, prodded and forced everyone along into performing at their peak. She wanted one thing: to win. And for someone like Doukas, she often succeeded in her goal.

Hensley had never had a player as singularly focused as Doukas and while her captaining tactics at times reigned on the spectrum of dictatorship rather than a democracy, Coach Hensley couldn't argue with the end results.

They won. A lot.

And luckily for Doukas, she was more of a benevolent dictator than anything else. But everyone always knew who was in charge. She saw others' weak points and she made them better. But she was anything but flexible and her rigid demeanor was sometimes her undoing when it came to team dynamics.

Doukas was far from a perfect player, but she was the closest thing Hensley had seen in a long time. And better yet, she was hungry for it. For most of the team, soccer was a fun pastime, but for Doukas, it was a way of life.

Coach Hensley stood on the sidelines, watching her team run through their drills, seeing the harmony of two years of playing together between them. They were playing well, indeed. As the dribbling drill finished up, Coach Hensley blew her whistle, effectively calling an end to the practice for the day.

The players were quick to slump out across the field, chugging water and wiping sweat from their brows as their jerseys stuck to their skin. Unlike many of her teammates, Sierra was vibrating with energy. She felt like she could keep playing for hours. She almost didn't want to stop, but alas, school was also something she had to concern herself with.

"I am dead on my feet," Natalie complains as she, Sierra, and several of their other teammates hoof it to the bleachers where their bags were waiting for them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sierra interjects smartly as she dribbles a ball expertly between her feet, "I feel like a million dollars."

"Probably because you're insane," Tiana Brandon, the African American goalkeeper of the team chimes in as she take a giant sip from her water bottle. Sierra rolls her eyes as she tosses the goalkeeper a dark look.

"It's called dedication."

"Another word for insanity."

An elbow jab from Natalie is enough to stop the captain from starting an all-out brawl. Another thing about Sierra after practice was that all the extra energy had a way of making her jumpy, she was quick to feel anything and then act on it, even anger. Sierra turned away, the ball going back and forth between her legs as she glanced up and saw a figure waiting for them at the bleachers.

"Hey, Rebe!" Sierra yells and Rebekah's head, previously stuck in a book, glances up, her glasses nearly falling off the end of her nose. She distractedly pushes them up before waving at the group of soccer players converging on her.

The two girls had been friends since kindergarten when a little Sierra, fiery with her strawberry blonde hair in pigtails and in oversized overalls, had marched up to the swings where one Rebekah Brown had been situated. The strawberry blonde had plopped herself down on the swing next to Rebekah and told her that the two were going to be best friends and there was nothing Rebekah could do to stop it. Rebekah, just as shy as a kindergarten as she was now, had only meekly nodded and accepted Sierra as her new friend.

Truth of the matter was that the two didn't have a lot in common these days. Rebekah was enamored by her studies, a pastime Sierra excelled at but didn't revel in (except for History Club, that was her jam) and Rebekah was one of the most uncoordinated people Sierra had ever met, which meant sports (especially soccer) were out. However, the one thing Sierra prided herself on most was loyalty. She'd do anything for a friend in need and it didn't matter how different the two were, Rebekah was who she had chosen for a friend so many years ago and nothing was changing that.

"How'd we look out there?" Sierra asks as she throws herself down on a bleacher as her teammates join her. Rebekah shrugs as she marks her place in her book and gently closes it, hugging it to her chest as she glances down at Sierra quizzically.

"Uh…good, I think."

Sierra narrows her eyes, "Good? Oh, I'll show you good."

She launches herself at her friend, tackling her in a sticky, perspiring hug. Rebekah screeches as she tries squirming away from Sierra's ironclad hold. The rest of the group laughing their heads off as Sierra refuses to let go.

"Sierra, you're all sweaty and gross! Get off!"

Rebekah is finally able to pry Sierra off of her as the soccer player feigns offense. "Gross? That's the smell of success."

"More like a laundry room filled with used socks," Natalie expresses with a wrinkled nose as Sierra scowls.

"Everyone's a critic," she mutters to herself as she seats herself down and begins undoing the laces of her cleats. The group is stretched out and relaxing, enjoying the September sun before homework and responsibilities call their names.

Once her cleats are off and are in a pile on the ground (followed by her socks and shin guards), Sierra stretches out, wiggling her toes and admiring the glittery nail polish shimmering in the sunlight. She's laying lazily on the bench, head pillowed by her hands as she drinks her water and glances at her friends.

"So, Bev," Sierra addresses her left midfielder Beverly Meadows, "What's the 4-1-1 on all the Eden Hall gossip?"

Beverly Meadows knows everything about everyone. Sierra half suspects its why her hair is so big, it's hiding all of Eden Hall's sordid secrets. Besides her thick, curly hair, the other defining trait of Beverly is her _distinctive_ laugh.

Truth of the matter is…Beverly laughs like a donkey. When she laughs…err, _brays_ , everyone in a thirty feet radius can hear it. It's loud and long and almost always causes everyone around the girl to laugh as well. It's a quirk to be sure, but an overall endearing one.

Beverly immediately perks up as the others gather around her eagerly, awaiting all the gossip. One of the perks of the soccer field is that it is located directly off the quad, which is the second most popular place (after the dining hall) for Eden Hall students to air out their personal matters. If you want to know who is dating who, who is fighting, and who is plotting world domination, there was no better place to look than the quad. Now Beverly was holding court over it as she regales her teammates about what is going on at the private academy.

"…and that's how Sally Fitzgerald found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her with her own twin sister."

"Wow," Tiana murmurs as she munches on some pistachios. Beverly nods with a flourish, her hair flying everywhere as her head bobbed.

"Riveting stuff," Rebekah mutters as she continues reading her book, trying to tune out the soccer players' babblings.

Beverly glares before opening her mouth and continuing, "Where was I? Oh, yes…moving onto the Ducks."

While two years ago the Eden Hall Warriors had become the Eden Hall Ducks, everyone knew who you were talking about when you mentioned 'the Ducks.' It could only be the hockey team. They were like Prince or Madonna, a single entity behind one word.

"Julie Gaffney and Scooter, after two years of dating, broke up over the summer. My sources tell me it was a mutual decision with him going to Princeton and all."

"That's so sad," Natalie says as she munches on some celery sticks slathered in peanut butter, "They were such a cute couple."

Natalie, in the throes of young love with her surfer boyfriend from San Diego, found every couple to be a cute couple and in love. It was sickening, especially for Sierra who roomed with the love struck girl.

"I hear he's already hooked up with three girls on Princeton's campus," Beverly states gleefully. There's nothing more she likes than spreading dirt on other people. Sierra finds it to be a commendable quality. Someone has to do the dirty work.

"Speaking of trouble in paradise, I also hear that Connie Moreau is thinking of breaking up with Dominic Barclay."

"Good," Sierra gruffly asserts as she sits up, "The guy's a grade A asshole."

"A bit biased, much?" Tiana teases. Sierra glowers in return, her green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"That prick thought he was entitled to groping my derriere back freshman year at Cecile Whittaker's party. And when I gave him the business about it, he had the audacity to laugh in my face while once again attempting to grope my ass."

"Well," Natalie interjects from her spot, "You sure showed him when you kicked him in the balls."

The girls burst out into loud laughter, even Rebekah giggling as a light blush covers her cheeks. Sierra feels a smug grin cross her face as she leans back against the bench, the metal cold against her bare arms.

"Hopefully I did the world a favor and he'll never be able to reproduce and create asshole mini versions of himself."

Beverly continues on with her tales from the grapevine as Sierra glances across the field towards the quad. Students are enjoying the mild September day and are sprawled out on blankets in the grass, a group of boys are throwing a Frisbee around and many are seated at picnic tables working on homework.

Sierra spies one girl, a blonde with long, wavy hair, sitting alone, head buried in a textbook as her pencil flies a mile a minute with writing notes. Sierra's seen her once or twice around the school, and besides knowing that she's new, she knows nothing about her.

"What about her? What's her deal?" Sierra asks, effectively cutting Beverly off mid rant about Luis Mendoza and whoever he is sleeping with this week. She nods over to the girl as Beverly follows her gaze.

"Who, the new girl?"

At Sierra's nod, Beverly wracks her brain, trying to find what she has stored on Eden Hall's newest addition. Finally, it comes to her.

"Her name is Kennedy Parrish and she's from Rhode Island. Her dad's in the air force, hence the move to lovely, worldly Minneapolis."

"What's our impression about her?" Sierra inquires as she bats away at fly away hairs sticking to her forehead.

"She's quiet, though more social and outgoing that our own bookworm over here."

Rebekah determinedly ignores that as she continues reading, humming under her breath all the while.

"She hasn't found a group yet, though is friendly to all she encounters. She's thinking of joining the swim team and oh…yeah, she's apparently caught Adam Banks' eye."

That gets everyone's attention.

Eden Hall is, and will always be, a hockey school. So it's no stretch of the imagination that its hockey players are hot commodities among the female population. The hottest one is always the star player because not only is he typically good looking, but he's also has the glow of victory surrounding him. And undoubtedly the star of the Ducks is one Adam Banks. And it doesn't hurt that objectively, he is good looking.

Not that Sierra sees the appeal and she has no problem telling people that, not that anyone ever listens.

"Really?" Natalie asks, eyes interested as she bites soundly into her celery, "He hasn't had a steady girlfriend since – "

"Chloe Brannigan, freshman year. Yes, I know." Beverly says superiorly before continuing, "Though he has made out with a few girls at parties. Liquid courage and all. However, it never goes anywhere."

Sierra rolls her eyes heavenward as she chugs some water, "What is even the big deal about Adam Banks?"

Everyone, even Rebekah, stares at the soccer captain. Beverly scoffs in disbelief as she exclaims, "Adam Banks is one of the most popular boys at Eden Hall."

"Why? It can't be because of personality," Sierra retorts, "He's as bland as Wonder Bread."

Natalie snorts and even Beverly can't help but unleash her _unique_ laughter on the group. Once everyone's settled all eyes swivel back to Sierra.

Natalie watches her friend speculatively, "You've never liked Adam. Why?"

Sierra grunts as she stands and cracks her neck soundly, "It's nothing personal. I don't like him on principle. He's a hockey player."

"So?" Tiana asks with furrowed brows.

"So? So aren't you sick of hockey players being treated like gods at this school? They get everything handed to them: the best equipment, the best facilities, seemingly endless funding, the list goes on. I mean, our record is nearly as perfect as Varsity hockey and we're treated like chopped liver. It's maddening and people like Adam Banks are part of the problem."

"At least he's cute," Beverly mumbles under her breath.

"He's not that cute," Sierra mutinously counters as her group of friends smirk at one another.

"Sierra," Natalie remarks with a smile, "You can hate the guy all you want, but even you have to admit he's handsome."

Sierra shrugs and reaches for her duffle bag and pulls out purple flip-flops before roughly throwing in her equipment. Once everything is hastily packed away, she zips it and then tosses it over her shoulder as she stands.

"Whatever, he's a six at best. Hemmingway is calling my name, I'll see you sorry lot later."

She turns on her heel and walks away, the sun warming her all the while as she heads towards her dorm.

* * *

Adam's breath catches in his throat as he glances at Kennedy for the hundredth time in the space of an hour. Mr. Rothchild has been rambling on about stoichiometry for the last 20 minutes. Not that Adam's noticed with his attention being so focused on his seatmate and how pretty she looks in pink.

Man, he is so screwed.

Somehow, without him noticing, September had flown by and after weeks of practicing the newly minted Varsity Ducks have their first game this upcoming Saturday against the Stingrays. He's excited for it (and secretly a mass of nerves). Because this is the big leagues of high school hockey and he's a junior now. He has a limited amount of time to attract scouts, to show how skilled he is as a player.

His whole future is riding on how well he plays and his father never lets him forget it every time he calls home or pops in for dinner because his mom talked him into it. When he sleeps at night he dreams of hockey drills. He smells the ice wherever he goes.

He's gone a bit hockey crazy.

And whatever part of his brain that is still functioning is fixated on Kennedy. He sits beside her every day for 55 minutes. Through their little snippets of conversation he's learned that she is the middle daughter of three, her favorite color is periwinkle, she loves kiwis, she's been horseback riding all her life and can quote the entire movie _Clueless_ by heart.

Adam thinks he's just a little bit in love with her. She's gentle, soft and soothing all in one. She's not a vulture like the cheerleaders and other popular girls in school who only like him because he's a hockey player nor is she like Connie and Julie, who are sharp and strong and not in need of defending.

Also, when Kennedy looks at him, it's like she really _sees_ him, sees past the façade of popular boy and hockey player.

That doesn't stop him from still making a fool out of himself in front of her. It's a work in progress. At least, for the most part, he can speak in complete sentences around her. Baby steps.

He's still watching her when the bell rings. He blinks and stands packing up his belongings quickly so he can catch her before lunch. He's been debating of asking her this all week, but it's Friday and it's his last chance. Not he just has to work up the courage to.

Kennedy is unaware of his internal battle as she daintily zips up her backpack and turns to Adam with a friendly smile.

"That was a captivating lecture," she says with a teasing grin, "I was hanging off of Mr. Rothchild's words."

Adam can't attest to that, he has no idea what Mr. Rothchild was talking about all class. That will probably bite him in the butt in the near future.

"Oh, yeah," he says weakly as he shifts and runs a hand through his blonde hair.

It's not or never.

"Hey," he begins haltingly as her blue eyes peer at him, "Do you have any plans this weekend?"

Kennedy shakes her head, "Nothing besides homework. Why do you ask?"

Adam shifts again nervously. It couldn't have been this hard for Charlie when he asked Linda to a Ducks' game two years ago. He forces himself to get the words out steadily, "You a hockey fan?"

Kennedy wrinkles her nose in surprise before shaking her head. "I have to admit, I don't know much about it. I'm more of a baseball fan. Go Braves!"

Adam arches an eyebrow, "Braves?"

Kennedy lightly laughs as she nods, "Before Rhode Island, we lived in Atlanta for a few years. My Dad and I became big Braves fans. We were there when they won the World Series in '95."

Adam didn't know much about baseball. He had only been to a few Twins games in his life and he hadn't even been aware that they had been in the World Series in '91 until after they won it.

What could he say, he was a hockey fan.

Seeing that Kennedy was looking at him and waiting for him to make his point, he was quick to open his mouth and continue speaking.

"It's just…I play for the Varsity hockey team and tomorrow is our first game of the season. I was hoping, well I mean, I was wondering if you wanted to…come to the game. If you're free of course. And wanted to come."

Kennedy all but beams at him as she plays with a silver ring on her right hand. "Hockey, huh?"

Adam jerkily nods as he grips his backpack straps tightly, "It should be fun. Hockey has a lot more action than baseball."

Kennedy raises an eyebrow challengingly, "Does it now?"

"Yeah, and with only three periods everyone gets to go home sooner." He counters good-naturedly as Kennedy chuckles, throwing back her head and showing off how long and slim her neck is. Adam can't help but gulp as his eyes dart towards her smooth skin.

"Well how can I resist with a pitch like that?" Kennedy asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

"So…you'll come?" Adam crosses his fingers behind his back as he awaits the verdict.

Kennedy doesn't leave him hanging as she nods her head, "I'd love to."

A huge smile splits across Adam's face as he feels like punching the air victoriously. Luckily he restrains himself.

"Awesome! Great. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"You will."

Kennedy smiles a final time before walking away and Adam can't help but watch her walk away.

Now all he has to do is worry about winning.


End file.
